Touch
by Love Out Of Lust
Summary: A one shot - no plot, just porn. A late birthday present for the lovely and talented flowerpicture.


"Stop touching yourself."

"No." Steven releases a drawn out sigh, hand deftly moving in his boxers, heavy eyes shut and tongue between his teeth.

Brendan's never wanted him more, can feel heat pooling in his gut at watching the boy lying on the bed, white sheets spread around him, golden skin shining with beads of perspiration, chest rising and falling and his movements beginning to grow erratic as he plays with his dick, palm moving from root to tip.

Brendan leans over, feels like he's close to leering obscenely, but he can't _not_ look at the boy when he's like this, eyes glued to him as his own dick becomes thick, pre-come wetting his underwear.

"I'll make you stop."

Steven smiles, a satisfied grin. "Go on then." His voice is daring, challenging. He likes this game they're playing.

His words are the catalyst that Brendan needs, and he sinks down onto the bed, trapping Steven with his arms. The boy's completely naked, treasure trail tantalizing and nipples pert and stiff as Brendan lowers down and licks at them, before securing them between his teeth.

A bite elicits a deeply gratified moan from the younger man, his strokes increasing in speed.

"That's it." Steven's whispering now, breaths sounding like mere pants as Brendan focuses on his nipples, coating them with his spit as he rubs and gyrates against his body, letting Steven know how hard he is, how much he wants him.

Brendan doesn't still in his actions and hungry exploration as he undresses, quickly flinging his trousers and shirt onto the floor where they lie forgotten, not to be worn for the remainder of the day. The deli's closed on Sunday's, and Brendan's taken the afternoon off from mind numbingly tedious paperwork. He's got better things to do. Namely, his boyfriend.

It had all begun when they'd arrived back at the flat after a late lunch at The Dog, Steven getting ketchup all over his face and a salty smear of chips across his mouth. He'd laughed that loud, braying laughter of his when Brendan had shown him his face in the men's bathroom, then proceeded to try to cover Brendan in his mess, transferring the sticky red condiment onto his lips instead.

Brendan had obliged, couldn't stop him even if he wanted to, and it had escalated to hands in hair and tongues rubbing together, Steven's cock hard against Brendan's groin.

"Stop." Brendan hadn't much fancied having Jack Osborne finding them fucking in the toilets, wanted to save that embarrassment of a conversation from happening.

Steven had pointedly ignored him, pressing in closer like he was trying to draw the heat from his body, hands beginning to work on Brendan's belt. They'd done this before in Chez Chez, had lost count of the times when they'd tried to covertly sneak into the bathroom, Brendan's hand clamped over Steven's mouth to stop the boy from crying out and alerting customers, Cheryl.

But never here. Never in a public place that Brendan can't control, isn't his own business with his own rules and boundaries.

The boy could summon strength when he wanted to, and Brendan had difficultly in shrugging him off, knew that it was in part because he didn't want to. His resistance was increasingly weakening, the sight of Steven wanting to be fucked, dragging him into a cubicle and slamming the door closed, eyes bright and alive and lips seeking his.

They hadn't been quiet. Hadn't even tried to. Brendan had toyed with the idea of fucking Steven from behind, the easiest position in such a small, cramped space. But he was growing soft in his advanced years, the need for intimacy overtaking him. He wanted to see the boy, and with some maneuvering and flexibility he had Steven's legs wrapped around him, his hands around his neck and hanging on.

It hadn't taken much to prepare him: a few licks of his fingers before they scissored inside the boy's hole, weaving in and out until Steven was gasping against his shoulder, felt like he was going to come already against Brendan's stomach, all over his brand new suit.

They heard someone coming in, both men stilling in their movements as they listened to the sound of them, not resuming until the noise died away, quiet replacing it. There was something exciting about what they were doing, something sordid and obscene about a quick, hasty fuck in the middle of the day - not the first pub that they'd had sex in - and the knowledge that there was nothing secretive about them anymore heightened the feeling of connection; everyone knew about Brendan and Steven, knew that they were together, saw them in the village, the man who acted like he owned the place and his brash, argumentative, mouthy lover.

It was a status that they both reveled in.

But still it wasn't enough. Even after Steven came, hard, come spurting out thick and hot against Brendan's chest, Brendan continuing to thrust until it hurt, the boy still kept close, still tugged at Brendan's dick like he could do more damage, wanted to go again.

"I'm not Superman, Steven."

The boy didn't listen, traced his fingers over Brendan's foreskin as his cock made a valiant attempt to rise again.

"Come on." He kissed Brendan's neck, breath warm against his skin, and Brendan was so close to giving in, wanted to sink down onto the floor and tell Steven to ride him.

The sound of Darren Osborne entering the bathroom and whistling deterred Brendan of that idea; he wasn't about to be caught with his pants around his ankles, balls deep in his very male, very naked boyfriend.

He may be out, but he wasn't _that_ out.

He had to listen to Steven grumbling the entire way home: _It's not like Darren would have caught us, and do you know how difficult it is trying to get a boner to go down, Brendan?_

Steven was rarely polite when he was horny.

He'd gone straight into the bedroom, throwing off his clothes and reaching for his dick.

Brendan presses their noses together, an affectionate gesture that Steven never draws attention to, knows better than to highlight it and make Brendan feel overly sentimental, overly romantic.

The boy removes his hand from his dick, starts trailing it up and down Brendan's body instead, seeking pleasure elsewhere. He's still amazed by the muscles and the sheer size of him; Brendan can see the awe in his expression, the barely concealed lust and need.

He's not the only one who's changed. Steven's fleshed out in the years since Brendan's known him, will always be a skinny little runt but there's more of him now, legs defined and the slightest hint of definition around his abdominal muscles. Brendan can carry him to the bed as easily as ever, but when he wrangles Steven's legs onto his shoulders, he feels it. The solidity. The power.

"You like what you see?" Brendan raises an eyebrow cockily. Teasing's one of his favourite past times, especially with this boy. He enjoys how Steven gets affronted, accusing him of being arrogant and purposefully seeking out compliments.

He gets a playful push, but no comment: Steven's too busy grasping Brendan's cock in the palm of his hand. It leaves Brendan breathless, how much the boy wants it. The way he's always looked at it, pushing it closer to his hole, impatient to have it inside him.

"_Wait_." Brendan laughs, hasn't even begun to prepare Steven, isn't sure whether his looseness from this afternoon will last, will make it less painful. Steven forgets how big he is sometimes, how much it can hurt.

Brendan doesn't want to hurt him, never did, in any capacity. Never plans to ever again.

The boy fidgets in irritation, dick rock solid. Brendan appeases him, stroking it while he reaches for lube in the bedside drawer, slicking his fingers with it until they glisten and Steven's eyes widen, pupils like saucers. So much of this is about the anticipation, the thrill and the chase of it.

The first finger makes Steven move up in the bed, mouth agape and a gasp released, and Brendan feels like he's experiencing everything the boy is, that addictive combination of pleasure and pain coexisting. He feels it every time that Steven fingers him, the tightness at first, overwhelming and making his hole feel tender, stretched beyond breaking point. Then something will switch, like a lightbulb coming on in a room: it'll transform, and feel so achingly good that he'll come from the pressure of Steven's fingers alone, his orgasm disorientating and on the edges of being violent.

"Shhh, it's alright." Brendan leaves comforting kisses on his skin, Steven's legs twitching from the focus that Brendan's showing him, feels like the highest form of worship.

Steven reaches forward, as far as he can go with Brendan on top of him, kissing him full on the lips, sloppy and warm and so full of love that Brendan feels his throat constrict, still isn't sure how to deal with this kind of all consuming acceptance of everything he is.

"I want to fuck." Steven's all breathy moans and fluttering eyelashes, but Brendan adds a second finger before he can insist any further, making the boy keen and lay his head once more against the pillow, his expression one of unadulterated bliss.

Steven's soft and wet inside, and Brendan pushes against his entrance lightly with his cock, doesn't know how much longer he can withstand holding off like this. He wants Steven to be ready, but he's burning up for him; the noises he makes, the way he stares at Brendan like he's his world when he manages to open his eyes.

He's beautiful, and he's _his_.

Brendan settles more comfortably between Steven's legs, aware of his own desperation. He needs to taste the boy, his textures and the way that he melts like the sun when he rims him. The tip of his tongue goes in, slowly at first because Brendan knows how it can shock the boy sometimes, make him jump from the sudden sensation, the feel of Brendan's moustache tickling against him.

He becomes merciless when Steven adjusts. Eats his hole out like it's his right, _is_ his right now that Steven belongs to him forever, loves him doing this to him, raising his hole so that it comes into closer contact with Brendan's eager tongue.

Brendan _mmmm's_ while his tongue is inside him, sending a vibration through Steven's body that makes the boy shudder, letting out a giggle that's twisted with arousal. Steven doesn't ask to be fucked again, can't seem to concentrate on anything other than how good this feels. There's something about a quick shag, but there's something even more intoxicating about this: exploratory, personal, connected.

Brendan's tongue-fucked a lot of men, but he's never loved one before. Never wanted to give them pleasure like this, like it's more important than anything in his entire life, the need to make Steven happy.

"You want my cock inside you?" He leans against Steven's thigh, watching as the boy struggles to get his breathing back, looking spaced out and completely out of it, staring at the ceiling with heavy lidded eyes.

He nods, doesn't seem capable of much else. Steven's always like this after getting his hole eaten out, legs turning to jelly and body slack and more pliable than ever, all dexterity gone.

But Brendan's not done, not even close, feels his orgasm wanting to be released, feels like he's on a cliff and he's so, _so_ close to the edge, needs to jump off just to feel the adrenaline spiking through him.

He's inside Steven with one fluid thrust. That's all it takes, and the boy doesn't even whimper, is ready for him. He molds against Brendan's body, wrapping his arms around him before descending lower, gripping the cheeks of his arse to push Brendan deeper inside him, get him rubbing the head of his cock right where he wants it, over and over until he goes crazy with it.

Brendan lets him, may be on top of Steven but he allows him to set the pace, tell him how fast and hard he wants it, and fuck, he wants it _hard_. There's aggression to his actions: if someone walked in right now and found them, they'd think they were hurting each other. It's how they draw pleasure from the other, Steven moaning against his lips _more_ like it's a prayer, like Brendan's the only God he's ever known.

Brendan gives it to him, batters Steven's prostate relentlessly and grips his dick until the boy comes.

"Fucking hell." Steven used to be the loud one - they're almost equal these days. Brendan can't stop the pleathora of expletives from spilling from his lips as the boy milks his cock by clenching like a fist around him, dragging out his orgasm.

They collapse in each others arms, dozing in the post coital slumber which has become characteristic of their daytime fucks.

Brendan wakes an hour later to the sound of rustling sheets, peering over with sleep filled eyes, instantly growing more alert as he takes in the sight of Steven masturbating beside him, one finger in his hole while the other hand massages his cock.

"You touching yourself for me?"

Brendan waits for the inevitable eye roll that his comment will produce.

"Always for you."

Brendan smiles, rolling over on the mattress and securing his lips around Steven's erection. He doesn't plan to move from this bed for the rest of the day.


End file.
